Only Half

Alone

No one could know. Not the Fentons, not the students, no one. Sam's cheeks were glistening with tears that betrayed her gothic demeanor. She was supposed to be tough and yet here she was, a sobbing wreck mourning her best friend since middle school. It was only natural, but she still couldn't help but feel a tinge of weakness. She had wanted to go after Valerie immediately to soothe the snarling beast within her, but Tucker had warned against it. He said it would only cause trouble. It'd be better to wait, and he was right.

This was why they were burying him privately, a bit outside of Amity Park. They wouldn't be able to stand all the trouble announcing his death would cause. They knew eventually someone would notice. They'd report Danny missing and the search would begin, but they would never find him. Instead of telling the Fentons the truth, they would allow them to have some semblance of hope that their son and brother was still alive somewhere. They knew it wasn't ideal, and that perhaps giving them closure would be better, but Sam and Tucker couldn't bring themselves to do it. That would mean accepting that their best friend was really gone. They would have to bear this weight of this grief alone. People at the school would talk and Valerie would feel even more satisfied now that her handy work was the talk of the town. Most importantly, she would get away with it. Sam refused to let that happen, and she was willing to do anything in her power to get revenge. Danny probably would not have done that, but what choice did they have? Danny was gone, and he wasn't coming back. It was time for Sam and Tucker to take matters into their own hands.

Sam and Tucker grieved differently. Whereas Sam suddenly began replacing what she deemed as weakness with anger, allowing her hatred of Valerie to soak in further, Tucker had just gone silent. It was as if his lips had stopped moving since he had witnessed the scene of Danny's death. All the blood... puddles of green ectoplasm and red crimson flashed through Sam's mind, and she scrunched her face to keep herself from letting another tear fall, but it was no use. She was in control of a lot of things, but her emotions weren't one of them right now, and she was angry with herself for admitting it. Tucker had just gone along with her desperate attempt to avenge Danny, but he hadn't really felt the same. He just felt... cold, empty.

No words were spoken between them, but both of the friends knew exactly what to do at the right time. Sam took one end of the wooden box they had so poorly fashioned nearly six days ago. It had taken them that long to put together and nail a coffin piece by grueling piece as their sorrows consumed them. Tucker had worked as best he could, but he had been slow to say the least. Sam used her suffering to fuel her, thinking of Valerie as she hammered away at the worn wood. Now Tucker took the opposite end of the coffin, holding his expression in a grimace and keeping his face unnervingly blank for someone with such deep thoughts.

It took quite some time for them to heave the coffin into a medium sized grave, which they had dug themselves. They had tried not to make it too deep, for that would have taken at least another few days. They couldn't stand to look at Danny's broken form for that long. They just wanted him to rest in peace, and although the scars of that day would linger in their minds forever, at least it was safe to assume that they would not be reminded of it every second they turned their heads from their work.

After about an hour, Sam and Tucker both heaved themselves back onto the grass, looking down one final time at the coffin they had worked so hard to create, and the shattered figure that lay within it. "Danny..." Sam whispered, letting another tear trickle down her cheek without so much as a wince now. She sniffed involuntarily, and turned away from the open grave. "Let's close it," she said at last in a mutter, and Tucker nodded, handing her a shovel that matched his own. They both dug into the dirt, pushing it back in its place, as if it had never been disturbed to begin with...

The ghost zone was virtually empty all around Skulker's Island. The ghost zone's greatest ghost hunter had been messing around with his suit and gear before noticing something materialize on a floating rock a few meters west of the edge he had been looking out on. He thought he recognized it, but he couldn't be sure. Most things in here looked familiar to him, and he was eager for a prize worthy of his ghost hunting greatness, so naturally he "saw" ghosts everywhere, wanting to bag them and make them his trophies.

He grinned somewhat maliciously as he floated more towards the small rock. It took about five minutes for him to reach it, and his iron boots touched down with a small metal clank. His blazing green hair swept back as eyes that matched its color drew themselves to a crumpled mass. Whatever it was, he did not know yet, so he approached with some caution, despite his massive talents in hunting.

His eyes widened as he drew level with the figure, and his grin returned with a vengeance as he stared upon the form of a ghost he knew. He had hunted him for quite some time, but without any luck. The ghost seemed to be struggling. Normally Skulker would have taken his chance and shot him with a net before he could wake and escape, but he had been hunting this particular prize for so long that he felt it was not challenging enough to do so just yet. He would make himself known first.

The black-suited form was beginning to toss and turn upon the rock, gritting his teeth as his ghostly pale hair whipped back and forth with his body. A few minutes passed and finally, as Skulker had been waiting, the challenge arose. The ghost's eyes opened, laser green and dazed. He sat up, violently clutching at his neck with a white gloved hand. His tan face somehow seemed paler than usual, and Skulker couldn't help but think how easy it would be to finally bag his trophy – the ghost boy.

"What-?" whispered Danny in a haze, and suddenly he recognized the ghost zone, as his vision came back into focus. Flashbacks of his time with Valerie were swimming within his memory, but all he could remember were bits and pieces. A feeling of being electrocuted, it was hard to breathe... He was injected with something... Blood stains and blacking out. He had felt bliss for a short period of time – dreams, maybe? – and now he had woken here. But how did he get here?

"Hello, ghost child," said Skulker in a confident tone.

Suddenly, Danny seemed to have noticed Skulker's presence and he flinched noticeably at the sudden sound of another ghost's voice. "Sk-Skulker?" He asked weakly.

"Yes, ghost child! Who else?" he said with pleasure, and he stood up, ready to shoot Danny with his devices and take him back to his island only fifteen minutes away. "And now, ghost child, you shall finally be mine-!" He stopped abruptly as the scanner on his arm pinged. Skulker's eyes lurched to it in surprise. As he gazed at it, those eyes narrowed. "No... this can't be... What?" He paused, looking down at the ghost boy. "What has happened to you?" he asked with a shocked expression.

Danny had no idea what Skulker was talking about. Did he maybe know about Valerie? No, even if he did, he wouldn't care that he had nearly died- Wait. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

Skulker withdrew his weapons, looking very irritated. "It seems you are no longer a suitable prize for my collection," he said, and when Danny's expression echoed confusion, he elaborated, "You are no longer half human. You are just another ghost." He flew off back to his island, leaving Danny in such shock that he could not bring himself to move, to fly, to do anything. Not even remember Tucker or Sam, the mourning friends he had left behind back home.